


Mirror, Mirror

by draca (wyvernwolf)



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwolf/pseuds/draca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are the things you see and dream when you're sick real, or just hallucinations?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

Leaning heavily against the wall, he used a shaky hand to turn the tap and watched blearily as the water splashed from the tap. The clanking of the pipes as the ancient plumbing in the building complained at being forced to function doubled the ache in his head and made him wince.

Moving painfully slowly, he washed his hands under the flow of warm water as he absently gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging above the sink.

And blinked as the familiar reflection wavered slightly before it was replaced with the solemn face of a young girl with long blond hair, looking back at him with old knowing eyes. He blinked again and it was his own exhausted face staring back at him, complete with bags larger than Phyllis' knickers under drawn eyes and a few days worth of stubble covering his cheeks.

Lifting a wet hand, he rubbed his eyes and leaned in closer for another look but saw nothing but his own face reflected back. He pulled back and shrugged. He must be in a worse state than he thought.

He turned off the tap and rested his hands on the edge of the sink. He knew he should be heading back to bed but there was something about the mirror that drew his gaze back to it. He studied it carefully, trying to find what it was that made his copper's nose twitch.

It looked normal enough. Old, a bit grimy with a few black spots where the silvering had worn off; an object that could be found in any bathroom. Except for the crack that went from top to bottom. He shivered and not entirely from the chill in the air. The sight of his face neatly split in two gave him the willies and he turned away.

His hand was reaching for the door handle when a flash of something red moving inside the mirror caught his eye. Turning his head to try and catch it, he had to grab the towel rack to steady himself when the abrupt movement made him dizzy. By the time the room stopped spinning, whatever it was had gone and he was left staring at the mirror and trying to decide if he'd finally lost it.

A knock at the door and a muffled “Gene?” drew his attention away.

“What? Can't a bloke piss in peace?” he shouted back, but to his consternation, the shout came out more like a croak.

The door rolled back to be replaced by the disapproving presence of Sam.

“Not when you're sick as a dog and unsteady on your feet. You've been in here for nearly half an hour, Gene.”

“Half an hour?” Gene said in surprise. It hadn't felt that long.

“Yes. I timed you.”

“You would... sodding girl,” Gene mumbled under his breath.

“So, alright?”

“Yeah... just... your mirror.” He looked back at the perfectly normal looking mirror and then looked back at Sam, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the words to describe what he'd seen without sounding unhinged.

Mimicking his actions, Sam looked at the mirror and then back at Gene, head tilted to one side and reminding Gene of a cocker spaniel he'd seen at a market once.

“Gene?” Sam said gently. “What about my mirror?”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Nowhere. It came with the flat.”

Gene grunted as he stared at the mirror again, there was something wrong with it. He could feel it. Or it could be he was just feeling the effects of whatever it was that Sam was stuffing down his throat.

“Gene?” Sam said again, a worried expressions crossing his face as he reached out a hand to rest on Gene's forehead. “You sure you're alright?”

Gene slapped the hand away and glared at Sam.

“Stop fussing, Tyler. 'M fine.”

“Sure you are. Come on, back to bed with you,” Sam said briskly but his grip was infinitely gentle as he took hold of Gene's arm before letting go when Gene gave him another dirty look.

“Fine.” Sam took a step back, arms spread out. “Be a stubborn bastard.”

Gene gritted his teeth and took a step forward before staggering slightly as the room started to spin. He was preparing to say hello to the bathroom floor when Sam was there, slipping a strong arm round him and drawing him close, his warm body a welcome presence.

“Careful. You know you shouldn't be up and about yet, Gene,” Sam scolded gently.

“What was I supposed to do? Ask for a bedpan? 'M not pissing in bed,” Gene grumbled, leaning heavily on Sam as they negotiated an unsteady path to the bed.

“And I didn't ask you too,” Sam said patiently. “I'm just saying you should let me help. You got the worst of the bug going round the station and the doctor did say you should be resting.”

“I've been doing nothing but resting,” Gene nearly whined as Sam deposited him onto the bed. “And I'm fed up of lying in your shit bed doing sod all.”

“Well, you're not going into the station. And I'd like to point out that I didn't ask you to use my bed. You're the one that showed up here sick as a dog.”

“Where else was I supposed to go?” Gene muttered as he lay back, letting Sam be the girl Gene had always known he was and fuss with the blankets and pillow. “And I never said nothing bout going into the station.”

“Good because you're too sick to. I've got it covered anyway.”

“Probably running it into the ground,” Gene mumbled as he folded his arms and tried not to sulk. But he couldn't seem to help himself. He felt and looked like something a dog had sicked up and Sam being all reasonable and patient was annoying the hell out of him.

“Would you like a cup of honey and lemon?” Sam asked solicitously when he'd finished tucking the multiple blankets snuggly around Gene.

“No.”

“Some soup then? I made it this morning.”

“No.”

Sam pursed his mouth as he looked down at his pouting Guv. “Gene...”

“It's bloody lonely here, alright? You go off and leave me here and I got sod all to do.”

Gene felt the bed dip as Sam sat down but refused to look up. He had to though when a warm hand took a hold of his chin and gently forced him to and he found himself staring sullenly into Sam's brown eyes.

“Gene, you know that one of us has to be at the station. If I had a choice I'd stay and look after you but as police officers we have-”

Sam's words were cut off when Gene jumped in, “Duty, obligation and all that rubbish. I know.”

“Look, I'll try and come back early tonight okay?” Sam smiled at him and Gene couldn't help but smile back. It was hard to stay angry when Sam looked at him like that.

“Bring me back a curly wurly?” he said hopefully as he watched Sam pull his jacket on.

“Gene, you're sick. I don't think chocolate would be the best thing right now.”

“Don't be a git, Tyler. 'S just a Curly Wurly. I need some sugar,” Gene said, his eyes boring a hole into the back of Sam's head.

“How bout some fruit?”

“Don't want fruit. Want a Curly Wurly,” he said petulantly.

Sam turned to look at him, amusement on his face. “What are you, four?”

“Tyler, don't take advantage of a sick man. Now get me a blasted Curly Wurly or I'll string you up by your bollocks when I'm better.”

“Fine, fine. There's no need for threats, Guv. I'll get you your Curly Wurly. Just don't come crying to me when you sick it all up.”

“Won't sick it up.”

“Whatever you say, Gene,” Sam said as he finished collecting his wallet and keys. “I'm off then. The phone's right here if you need to call me, there's a fresh box of tissues and there's enough water in the jug next to you if you're thirsty. Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?”

Gene shook his head and settled himself more comfortably in the little nest of blankets that Sam had tucked in around him. His head was starting to pound again and his throat hurt.

“Not hungry. Might get some more kip though. 'M knackered.”

“Okay. I'll see you later then.”

Sam dropped a quick kiss on Gene's head and was halfway out the door when Gene spoke again, having just remembered something.

“Oh, and Sammy?”

Closing the door, Sam turned back, eyebrows raised in question. “Yes?”

“A new mirror.”

“You what?”

“Get a new mirror too. For the bathroom.”

Confused, Sam glanced over to the bathroom where he could just see the cracked mirror on the wall. “What's wrong with mine?”

Gene let out a sigh. “Would it kill you not to argue with me for once, Dorothy? Just get a new one.”

There was a few moments silence as Sam looked at Gene before he nodded in resignation. “Right then. A Curly Wurly and a new mirror for the bathroom. Anything else that Your Highness requires?”

“Don't be smart, Tyler. It doesn't suit you.”

“I don't have time for this. Bye, Gene.”

Shaking his head, Sam opened the door and left, leaving Gene in the quiet flat.

He lay in Sam's bed, hovering on the edges of sleep but he couldn't stop thinking about the face he'd seen in the mirror. He didn't understand why but she'd looked vaguely familiar.

It wasn't long before tiredness and the pills that Sam had made him take caught up to him and he fell into a fitful sleep filled with strange dreams.

Of a white room where blonde girls in red dresses danced crazily around a bed. A bed that held someone who looked a lot like Sam, yet Gene knew it wasn't his Sam. And there was something hovering half hidden in the shadows at the edges of the room. A looming presence that made Gene seriously apprehensive. Somehow he knew that this thing was waiting. Waiting for Sam to die. He tried to see what, or who, it was but only saw glimpses of a face.

Gene would only realise later that the face he saw was his.

-Fin-  



End file.
